


a grace too powerful to name

by mochis



Series: unimaginable [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, Letters, M/M, Pain, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 13,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mochis/pseuds/mochis
Summary: A letter arrives at Kiku Honda's doorstep from a man that he's tried hard to forget. Being him, he reads it anyway.





	1. april 24th, 1983

_ April 24th, 1983 _

~~_ Mr. Honda,  _ ~~ _ Kiku,  _

_ It’s been a while. How have you been?  _

_ I mean, I know how you’ve been, technically. Your country, that is. Everyone knows how well it’s doing. Which is good, having a stable economy and beneficial partnerships is good. So I’m guessing you’re good.  _ _~~Which is also good.~~ _ _  Which is nice.  _

_ I haven’t written you in a few years. Well, that’s an understatement, but you get me. Letters are slowly starting to become less common, but I thought it would be neat to send one just for old times’ sake, and you might not even read this or get this, so this entire letter might be a little pointless but I still wanted to talk.  _

_ And I’m rambling. But anyways. _

_ We have a G7 conference coming up in a month, yeah? I was thinking - if you weren’t too busy or had other plans already - we could talk? We totally don’t have to if you’re not okay with it. I just thought that since our bosses have been getting along pretty well and it’s been almost forty years since the war we could actually talk about things. Again, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.  _

_ You don’t have to answer this. I’m not even sure you’ll read this letter. But in the off-chance you  _ do  _ read this, at least consider meeting up after the conference? I haven’t heard you speak in ages. I’m forgetting what you sound like. Who knows if that’s a good thing or not. I guess it was a good thing for a while, but... I’m not sure anymore. You might not agree with me, but that’s to be expected. Not that I wanna go about re-opening old wounds, but the last time we actually talked to each other wasn’t exactly...good. _

_ Which is why I want to talk to you again. It’s been thirty-eight years. That’s literally a blink of an eye for us, but it’s different with you. I was so used to talking to you, and I mean  _ actually  _ talking to you. Now that we have phones and planes and a ton of new technology practically at our fingertips, it’s a waste not to take advantage of it all. I’ve kept in touch with other countries, obviously, but... they're not you.  _

_ I know I sound really, really,  _ really  _ stupid and I’m probably not making any sense. It’s really late - or early, actually; it’s almost two am here - and I’ve been running on coffee for the past few hours, but I just felt like I had to write you again. Maybe the guilt is still catching up to me. Or maybe I just miss my best friend. Either way, I’m really sleepy and struggling to stay awake while I write this right now.  _

_ Like I said earlier, you don’t have to answer. I actually don’t expect you to answer, so don’t sweat it. I just needed to get this into the air. Hopefully you’ll listen...though, I’m not gonna lie, I know you’ll listen. That’s just who you are. And I know you, Kiku. _

_ Stay safe until the conference, okay?  _

_ Alfred F. Jones _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's taken some time, but i'm back with part two/the concluding piece to this series! it's going to be shorter than the first part as it won't deal with too much history. if you haven't read the first bit, i highly recommend giving it a read, as i will reference to it throughout this fic. 
> 
> much thanks to everyone's support!! —✩


	2. april 27th, 1983

_ April 27th, 1983 _

Kiku stares at the letter in his hands. 

He isn’t quite sure how to  _ feel. _ Is he supposed to be angry? Surprised? Happy? A combination of all three?

It’s as if there’s a hole where the emotion towards Alfred is supposed to be. The paper between his fingers feels heavy and cold, eyes skimming over the words several times to make sure he isn’t dreaming. The rest of the mail he had received sits on the  _ chabudai  _ before him, completely forgotten the minute the asian came across a thin envelope addressed to him in scrappy handwriting that looked a bit  _ too _ familiar. The letter’s structure was just as messy as its sender, Kiku thinks to himself; it’s simply a stream of consciousness. Rambling, which the author recognizes, at least.

Kiku’s hands grip the paper tightly. His pride’s voice is loud and clear in his mind.  _ He wants to talk? What right does he have to demand we talk after what he’s done to me? _

His logic comes to balance out his anger.  _ I pulled him into that war. What right do  _ I  _ have to ignore his request? _

It isn’t the first time he battles with himself, and it is undoubtedly not the last. 

He regards the letter once more before folding it back up to tuck into its envelope, setting it back onto the table. Kiku needs time to  _ think _ before he lets his emotions dictate his decisions and writes back immediately. Thankfully, he has an entire month to consider his options.

He has an entire month to remember.


	3. february 8th, 1938

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! summer's got me feeling l a z y

_ February 8th, 1938 _

It was on this day that Kiku felt he began to lie to Alfred. What he lied about was constantly changing - be it how he was doing, what he thought about this or that, or his stance on the war against China - and the guilt which began to accumulate was nearly too much to bear. 

Truthfully, he didn’t feel like himself. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for the past few years, in fact, but it wasn’t as if it was something he could easily talk about. Even though Alfred expressed his concern for him that evening, holding Kiku close to his chest while rubbing soothing circles on his back, it didn’t do much for his mental stability in the long term. If anything, it was more like a temporary band-aid. 

Which, eventually, he had to rip off himself. 

The attack on China that Alfred had met with him to discuss was something still fresh in Kiku’s mind. He wanted to believe it was a bad dream, something that his mind conjured up to torture him with along with his first betrayal against Yao when he was younger - but when he woke up the morning after returning home from the six week massacre, his hands felt wet with blood that wasn’t there. 

(They still do, no matter how many times he’s tried to wash it off.)

The General Staff was reluctant to continue their greedy and bloody quest for China’s land, which Kiku could quite obviously understand, but nevertheless ordered for the capture of the capital, Nanking. 

To say he was surprised would be an understatement. He was dumbfounded and, frankly,   _ angry _ when they requested the 10th army to march towards Nanking.

“We were met with much resistance in Shanghai. What more must we give up for Nanking?” They wouldn’t listen to him - they  _ never  _ listen to him until it’s too late, but he still felt the need to try. His emperor was his next best bet as to stopping this attack. “This can only end in bloodshed, or, as I fear, worse. You cannot expect me to sit idly by -”

“Kiku,” His voice was tired, and it was then that Kiku saw the dark circles under his emperor’s eyes. “I understand your concern. I’m...reluctant to continue this endeavour, however, the ends will justify the means.”

“You do not know that.” 

“I know what is good for this country. For our people.”

_ Do you truly? Have any of you  _ truly  _ known what is good for this country? For  _ me? 

The words threatened to leave his mouth, but Kiku knew better than to address his superior in such a manner. He settled for biting the inside of his cheek, clenching his fists in his lap. “Yes, sir. As you wish.”

“The troops leave in two days. I suggest you prepare yourself by then.”

He looked up from his lap. “Prepare? Sir, I assumed I would be staying behind to assist with -”

“You will be leading the troops alongside Commander Asaka. Our country needs you in Nanking.” 

With that final command, he was dismissed. 

He stood, bowed, and left the emperor’s quarters within the palace. 

Kiku didn’t leave his room for the next two days, shutting himself away from any outside contact. If he pretended enough, it was as if he were back in his isolationist days - before he had anyone to concern himself with.


	4. december 16th, 1937

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> flashback chapter to a year before. tw for mentions of rape and gore, but nothing too graphic.

_ December 16th, 1937 _

The uniform felt too tight; he could hardly breathe. The good thing was that his gun was light - easy to raise up and aim or to drive the butt of the rifle into someone’s skull. 

Wait, that wasn’t right. Kiku had never picked up a rifle before then. Why was he so eager to use it?

Perhaps “eager” was the wrong word. “Prepared” could best describe how it felt to hold the weapon in his hands, adrenaline running through his veins as the march towards Nanking progressed. Though, he wouldn’t necessarily call it a “march”.

It was a massacre before they even reached the capital. Kiku was helpless against it - he wasn’t the one in charge of his country, of himself, after all. The General Staff and the Emperor knew better, they knew what was best for his country. They knew what was best for him. That’s how it’s always been, and he shouldn’t go against tradition. 

(But did they really even  _ know _ Kiku? Did they ever make the effort to know the person under Japan? Of course not, but he didn’t dwell on that thought too long. It wasn’t his place to, and Kiku preferred to stay in his place.)

He turned a blind eye to how quickly the troops advanced. Having been given consent to do what they wished with the Chinese villages they passed through, the men were eager to let loose on the civilians. 

He turned a deaf ear to the talk of murder races, as well. “The first man to kill 100 people using only a sword” remained a hot topic amongst the 10th army, and Kiku had to keep himself from heaving the minute he heard of the challenge. When did his people become so inhumane? 

(A part of him thinks they had always been that way, though it was not limited to his own people. Kiku realizes much too late that humans are complex and monstrous creatures - and their behaviour is contagious.)

“You shouldn’t sit to the side like this,” Prince - now Commander - Asaka said one evening as the two shared tea in Kiku’s tent. Nanking was taken rather easily, and the soldiers were out for the evening. “You were appointed to accompany the troops as a leader. You should be setting the example.”

_ I  _ am _ setting an example, one that you all do not want to follow _ , Kiku thought with an irritated sip of his tea, but settled for smiling politely towards the Commander. “I would prefer not to dirty my hands. We are only after the capital. These... other endeavours hold no interest to me.”

“Think of it as a sport!” Asaka offered, laughing. 

How he failed to see how twisted the mere thought of killing for “sport” seemed was beyond Kiku, and frankly, he did not want to argue with him. The island nation only kept his polite smile and offered the prince more tea. 

Kiku grew accustomed to the screams after two weeks. They were mostly female, and were often silenced once the men were done. The murdering for sport was continued, as well, and he soon found that the types of people that could be killed were not limited to adults - he barely made it back to his tent before he emptied his stomach when he came across several child corpses, mutilated and disfigured. 

Four more weeks went by full of mindless and senseless massacres, and he had to bear witness to it all as the obedient nation he was. This was what was best for him. He repeated it like a mantra in his head, a lullaby to soothe the anxiety attacks over and help him sleep at night.  _ More land, more power. It’s what’s best. It’s what’s best. It’s what’s best.  _

Never mind the child corpses, cut open and bleeding in the streets. It’s what’s best.

Forget the women who were forced to open their legs to men who didn’t take “no” for an answer. It’s what’s best. 

Ignore the men who were decapitated for sport. It’s what’s best. 

(The only thought in his mind as they returned to Japan - “Alfred would be so disappointed.”) 


	5. july 12th, 1939

_July 12th, 1939_

_Honda,_

_It would be wise to withdraw your men from my rightful territory. To think you would actually attempt to take it from me - even when Yao and I had come to an agreement about said land - is actually quite surprising._

_Seems as if you have grown some courage. Even if it is foolish and mistaken courage._

_My leader has commanded the Stavka to begin formulating how they will fight back against your armies. I am quite sure you know what my men are capable of.  Please, Kiku, do not make this any bloodier than it needs to be. Unless you truly want to... then, I have no objection. Things have been a bit too peaceful between us, after all._

_I will only warn you once._

  _Ivan Braginsky_


	6. july 15th, 1939

_July 15th, 1939_

~~_Ivan,_~~ _Mr. Braginski,_

 _~~If you think I am looking to add even more conflict to my growing list of external and internal conflicts, you could not be more wrong.~~ _ _I had not misinterpreted any part of your treaty of Yao. In fact, it is_ you _who has misinterpreted and assumed without proof._ _~~I am aware that your men are dangerous.~~ I ~~am very much aware of what they can and will do without hesitation.~~ _ _Your men can attack my troops at any moment, if you think yourself so cunning, yet we will be prepared despite the odds. You think me a fool, even after all of these years._ ~~_Everyone thinks me a fool or an obedient servant. I am absolutely tired of it._ ~~

_Do not forget. I am older and much,_ much _wiser than you will ever be._ ~~_You do not know of the things I have seen or what I have endured - and_ ~~ _I do not mean to belittle your own hardships. I simply mean to defend my honor and pride as Japan, which is something I believe you to empathize with._ ~~_Or have they truly crushed your heart during the revolution for you to not feel any emotion besides bloodlust? Or perhaps you are simply that cruel and sadistic by nature. Which I would not have any trouble believing._ ~~

_As they say in the west, it would be beneficial for you_ _~~to get off of your high horse~~ _ _to not bite off more than you are able to chew. We can be civil about this if we truly want to._ ~~_Though, I know you would rather engage in a war, in which case I am more than glad to give you; you have not seen me at my worst and I fear that is all I will soon be - my worst._ ~~

_Despite your animosity and threats, I wish you good health._

_~~Or you can, as they also say in the west, go to hell.~~ _

_Kiku Honda_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire letter was basically imperial kiku looking at ivan's threat and saying "BET" 
> 
> ...and then proceeding to get his ass handed to him by the Stavka.


	7. july 19th, 1939

_ July 19th, 1939 _

_ Honda, _

_ You mentioned the west. I wonder what Alfred would think to see you behaving this way. _

_ Ivan Braginski _


	8. july 26th, 1939

_ July 26th, 1939 _

_ Mr. Braginsky, _

_ He means nothing to me.  _

_ I would advise you not to tread where you are not wanted and keep to yourself. The rest of the world would be much safer if you did so.  _

_ Kiku Honda _


	9. september 27th, 1940

_ September 27th, 1940 _

_ “We’ve already decided on things between us, and came to the conclusion that this pact would be beneficial for all three of our countries. Thus, please make a good impression on Ludwig and Feliciano. They are undoubtedly different than us, but their cooperation is what is best for us at this time.” _

At least, that is what his emperor had instructed him to do before he was sent to meet with the two men who he would be working with closely for the next few years. 

He had met with Ludwig some years before to resolve an issue between their lands and remembered him being uptight and stern, but he has never met with Feliciano, or even visited his home. Italy was mysteriously stylish and carefree, from the things he had heard through the grapevine. The people there had skin kissed by the sun, spoke a romantic language that could make even the most rigid person swoon, and were almost a bit too friendly in terms of touching. 

Before the official signing of the Tripartite Pact, Kiku’s emperor had suggested he visit the two before hand to introduce himself formally. He, of course, was less than thrilled to do so. The purpose of the pact was to establish a new world order and maintain it - a feat he was certain Japan could do on their own. Their goal was to create and lead a new Asia, which is why they needed to occupy some lands and invade others; as he was told before, it was what was best. His leaders knew best. 

(The line between what he wanted and what his leaders wanted was beginning to blur, and Kiku knew he could do nothing about it. His obedience kept him from stopping it.)

Nonetheless, he gathered the courage and willpower to meet said German and Italian at a local bar not too far away from where they would be signing the pact. It was the last place he would rather be - there were many other places he would rather be, but ultimately, they all had a certain blue-eyed american by his side - and he pushed the door open rather hesitantly. The smell of cigar smoke nearly overcame him, coupled with the subtle scent of alcohol, but he righted himself and continued into the overwhelming environment. It was full of patrons, all fair skinned and light haired, each nursing a drink in their hands or at their tables. His eyes fell onto a chestnut haired man sitting at a booth on the far side of the bar, a glass of wine on the table in front of him. He seemed to be one of the only dark skinned people there, and quite animated with the way he was speaking. Across from him sat the man Kiku was looking for. 

They stood from their seats to greet him. He bowed upon arriving at their booth, having weaved through the bar’s crowd. “I apologize for being late. I had trouble finding the bar,” The island nation stood to his full height, face slightly flushed as he turned to face whom he assumed was Feliciano, “It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Kiku Honda, the nation of Japan.”

The man blinked in surprise, giving Kiku a once-over before breaking out into a grin. He held his hand out to shake, to which Kiku did hesitantly. “Oh, the pleasure's all mine, Mr. Honda! I’m Feliciano Vargas - but I think you already knew that. Wow, you’re really formal - maybe even more so than Ludwig.” 

The blonde next to him nudged his arm before coughing into his fist. “I apologize for him. He doesn’t quite know when to stay quiet,” Despite his obvious irritation towards the Italian, he managed a small smile in Kiku’s direction. “It’s nice to see you again, Kiku.” 

“Likewise,” Kiku bowed once more, though not as deep as before. 

“You two already know each other?” Feliciano asked, glancing between Ludwig and Kiku. He pursed his lips, “I feel left out already.”

“We had a...dispute a few years earlier.” Ludwig answered carefully, settling his arms folded across his chest. “We have since resolved things.”

Not one to dwell on the past (specifically the unpleasant past), the asian changed the subject.  “I hope I did not keep you two very long.”

Feliciano shook his head, gesturing for him to sit. “Of course not! Would you like something to drink? Wine, or maybe something stronger? You seem as if you could take your liquor pretty well, despite your size -”

“J-Just water will be fine,” Kiku said, settling into the booth next to him. Were  _ all  _ Italians so chatty? “Thank you.”

Ludwig took a sip from his beer, most likely to keep himself from chastising the Italian, and Feliciano grinned into his wine. He flagged down a waiter and requested a glass of water for Kiku, and from his side view, Kiku could see how his eyelashes brushed the tips of his cheeks - his freckled cheeks. They were much more faint against his olive skin, unlike Alfred’s, whose popped out against the paleness of his skin. 

Kiku lightly shook his head. There wasn’t any time to think of Alfred anymore.  _ Especially  _ now that the world was at war once more. 

“So, we’ll be working together from now on, huh?” Feliciano glanced from Ludwig to Kiku, a smile playing on his lips. “We’re kind of an odd trio.”

Ludwig managed a half smile, much to Kiku’s surprise. Not to be dramatic, but he wasn’t sure that the German even knew  _ how  _ to smile. It was rare and rather -  _ nice, _ to see him relax somewhat. “I suppose. However, we will need to set aside our differences to succeed.”

“Of course, Captain,” Feliciano raised his hand to his head in a mock salute. 

“Wrong hand.”

“What? Really? But  _ you _ told me it was this hand last time -”

Despite the tightness in his chest, Kiku found himself smiling at their banter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kiku finally crackin open a cold one with the boys.......


	10. december 26th, 1940

_ December 26th, 1940 _

_ Kiku, _

_ You haven’t written me in a while. The war must be keeping you busy. I know you can’t be purposely ignoring me. That isn’t like you. _

_ I’ve seen news of the war. The Axis is... well, faring.  _

_ I can’t say I’m exactly on your side. I can’t justify your actions anymore. Germany and Italy aren’t themselves, and I can only imagine how you’re behaving. Don’t let this war change you.  _

_ I received a letter from Arthur a few days ago. He advised me to stop seeing you. I can’t bring myself to even think about that, the ring on my finger seems to be glued on and will not come off. I know we can survive this war. I know this isn’t who you — or your  _ people _ — are.  _

_ I haven’t been able to tell you in person since the last time I’ve visited, but at least read it. I love you. _

_ Eternally yours,  _

_ Alfred F. Jones  _


	11. december 30th, 1940

_ December 30th, 1940 _

_ My love,  _

_ I could never ignore you - I’m overcome with guilt just at the thought of ignoring you. I can’t believe I have made you feel this way, Alfred, I’m so  _ sorry.  _ I know mere words on paper cannot do my apology justice, but seeing you in person is not an option anymore.  _

_ There are little options left to me anymore. Everything in my country is centered around the war and our victory, and because of this, my people are suffering. There is war in the pacific that is killing my men, there is war in China that is killing Yao’s people - and I took  _ part  _ in that, I led the march to Nanking and let my soldiers do as they please to those innocent people. I practically sat back and watched as they raped those women and children, useless and a coward. However, I  _ did  _ have the ability to stop them. I could have easily spoken out against it all, against my rulers, against my soldiers. I could have stopped them, I could have saved those people’s lives.  _

_ Yet...I did not. Why did I not?  _

_ I am not myself, my dearest, and I’ve no idea what to do about it. A part of me thinks this is right - this fight for the perfect Asia. It is like a voice in my head urging me to continue with this conquest, despite what my better judgement says. A losing battle between my morality and what is demanded of me. What frustrates me is that I am aware of it and yet do nothing about it. How can I? I am obedient and respectful, the ideal country that everyone should take notice of, and yet, I am also the most powerful and proud country that everyone should fear.  _

_ I need to be both, but it is so difficult and exhausting. I have never been more tired in my entire life. _

_ I know that once you read this, you will be upset. I know that you would leave your country to cross the ocean and see me. Tell me that I should not let this war change me. I know you, Alfred, and I also know that you simply telling me not to let myself succumb to what my emperor demands will not help me. It would be temporary; things will be bearable for a moment before the reality of war returns and takes you away from me. Arthur is completely right.  _

_ We should not be together - despite our vows or our feelings. We will not survive the war. Things were different when we met, the  _ world  _ was different and we were different. No,  _ I  _ was different. You were perfect, and you continue to be perfect in every way, from your selflessness to your overwhelming love for your people. I will not let myself ruin you. I  _ cannot  _ let myself ruin you. If I were to ever hurt you, Alfred, I don’t know what I would do - I cannot even bring myself to think of it.  _

_ Sometimes, however, I imagine you are here with me, and that the war is nonexistent. It puts my mind at ease if only for a few moments. I think of the way you laugh, how your smile reaches your eyes. Your freckles, and how you are embarrassed by them. Your hands in mine.  _

_ I miss you so, so much, Alfred. I love you -  _

Kiku dropped his pen onto his desk and quickly folded the letter, throwing it into one of his drawers as someone entered his office. He stood once he realized it was someone from the military branch. 

He was being called into a meeting about a new attack. The letter would have to wait. 

(It is only now, on April 29th, 1983, that Kiku Honda realizes he never finished or sent that letter.)    
  
  



	12. january 21st, 1941

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of updates! classes started back up and have been kicking my ass for the past two months

_January_ _21st, 1941_

The meeting was like any other that day. It was much too early to be obsessing with new attack strategies and military formations in Kiku’s opinion - he would rather be enjoying a cup of tea in the middle of this cold weather. Military meetings could come later. The war was not going to end any time soon, after all.

He stifled a yawn as he took his seat next to his emperor around the briefing table. There were dark circles under his eyes, his hair was flat and devoid of shine, and his skin was somehow paler than usual. All in all, Kiku matched the weariness of his people. However, Kiku couldn’t let on that he was absolutely exhausted in front of these men (who were possibly just as weary from the past few years), as he was meant to be their symbol of hope. Their beacon of power, an image of pride. What they were fighting for.

(What they were fighting for was currently killing Kiku Honda from the inside and clawing itself out of him, leaving behind ugly scars that only he could see in the dark and destroying his morality. But they wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ know that. They had to believe that Kiku wanted what they wanted - and, truth be told, he was beginning to _want_ it. The idea of owning all of Asia began to sound ideal after having it drilled into his brain for years.)

Thus, the island nation sat tall, back straight and head held high as he waited for the meeting to begin. Obedient yet aggressive; just as everyone liked him to be.

At least water was served. Kiku took a sip once everyone had arrived and battle plans were being discussed. Casualties were high, supplies were not arriving soon enough, and then word about the Navy Air Service...

Why was Pearl Harbor being discussed?

Pearl Harbor was American territory. American territory that was _not_ involved with the war, and _wouldn’t_ be involved since it hadn’t declared war on the Axis.

It was isolated. _Alfred_ was isolated, and that was exactly how it would be until the war ended -

“I do not approve of this. We haven’t the means to actually attempt this attack. We would lose too many men,” His emperor’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up towards the men surrounding the table like a deer caught in headlights. What attack?

“It is home to many of the U.S.’s naval fleets. Taking them out would be beneficial to us no matter which way you look at it.” Someone said. Kiku couldn’t match the voice to a face. He wanted them to stop talking about the harbor. “It is what is best for securing our victory.”

“Securing our victory would mean going to war with the States, which we know little about.”

War with Alfred. Oh, God above. Did someone just say that?

“Intelligence will be gathered, of course. Our equipment will also be updated to better suit the westerners. Training can begin at once.”

Their voices were too loud, they were speaking all at once. The room was suddenly smaller, the table between them so big. There was no room to breathe, so Kiku took in lungfuls of air to keep from running out of it. His chest felt painfully tight, and it just kept _squeezing_ tighter and tighter until his ribs felt like they would break.

It wasn’t just about going to war with Alfred. It was about expanding this war into another few more years. It was about making his people, along with the rest of Asia, continue their suffering. It was about destroying his own country to keep his superiors’ pride up. Things would never go back to normal.

Kiku gripped the table shakily, steadying his swimming head with his other hand. Leveled his breathing - _deep breath in, deep breath out,_ just like Yao showed him when he was younger - and ignored the painfulness in his chest. He managed to find his voice, though it was small. “This - This attack might not even _work_.”

Eyes were on him. The room wasn’t so small anymore; it stretched and stretched and _stretched_ on. Everyone was on the opposite side of him, staring him down like a hawk staring down its prey. Kiku felt stupid for proposing the idea of failure.

Despite this, he went on. “Just as it was mentioned, we do not know what the americans are planning, _if_ they are planning anything. They may be waiting to strike us or the Axis at this very moment -”

“Which is why it is important that we get the first strike against them.” The admiral interjected, leaving no room for discussion. Kiku felt even stupider. “If we damage their fleet, it would give us the opportunity to conquer the Dutch East Indies, along with Malaya. The rest of Southeast Asia will follow.”

They would damage more than the U.S. fleet, but they wouldn’t ( _couldn’t)_ know that. However, if the Empire of Japan actually managed to destroy or damage enough fleets and battleships, Kiku knew there wouldn’t be any issue taking the other islands they (That was the first time he included himself in “they”, he noted) wanted. The rest of Southeast Asia would follow. The rest of _Asia_ would follow.

It was - _tempting._

When he realized that attacking Alfred to get what he wanted was tempting, he knew he couldn’t go back to what they had. No amount of repentance or regret could ease his guilt. To actually entertain the idea of hurting Alfred, the man he shared a _vow_ and love with, was beyond forgivable, and he damn well knew it.

_“If I were to ever hurt you, Alfred, I don’t know what I would do - I cannot even bring myself to think of it.”_

He wrote that under a month ago. Kiku wanted to laugh; it was funny how quickly things changed.

(It was terrifying how a few thousand corpses coupled with overwhelming greed could corrupt a person, too.)


	13. april 29th, 1983

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit confusing in terms of tenses, so to clear things up:  
> \- kiku is remembering this during a nightmare, which is on april 29th 1983 (the present).  
> \- alfred remembered this on april 23rd, 1983 (the past), when he was originally reading over the letters in the first part of this series.  
> \- kiku's actions during his nightmare are also in the past (bc it's what he actually did/felt during the time of the attack).  
> boy i just love ! making things difficult for no reason !  
> either way, i hope you enjoy this update after 3 months — ☆

_April 29th, 1983_

Alfred remembered that morning like no other.

(Across the ocean, Kiku grips the covers tightly, lost in the same nightmare.)

He wasn’t at the harbor when the attack began. He was thousands of miles away in Washington D.C., busying himself with anything that was not the war. He had spent too much time tormenting himself with talk of rations, ammunition, Kiku’s recent letter, provisions, their neutrality, _Kiku’s recent letter._ Alfred wrote back after re-reading the letter about fifty times, but had received no further reply. The island of Japan was quiet, and Kiku Honda was absolutely silent.

(Kiku Honda _was_ absolutely silent - at least, on the outside. On the inside, his mind couldn’t stop arguing with itself. His pride versus his morality, what he _knew_ he should be doing versus what is already being done. He stood in the safety of his island while he watched the airmen prepare for their flight, watched as they loaded their missiles and bombs and readied their turrets. His eyes were flat, lips set in a thin line, making no move to stop these men, bring down the entire plan with one word.

There were a million things he could have said or done before his troops left.)

Paperwork seemed to be the easiest outlet for Alfred’s stress. There was much to be read over, signed and filed away, which would hopefully take up the next few days. His desk was unusually messy— contrary to what many believe, the American was actually quite organized when it came to his work— and practically overflowing with documents and manilla folders among other things.

(Kiku’s own desk could not seem to fit any more documents or papers. New sheets of paper were left for him to sign every morning and afternoon, all of which he pushed off as much as he was allowed to.)

It was _meant_ to be his safe haven for the week. Perhaps for the entire war that he wasn’t meant to join.

(The war that Kiku was never meant to pull him into.)

The sun had just begun to rise, spilling sunlight onto the floor as it squeezed between the blinds of his office. Coffee had been brewed, his glasses were polished, and Alfred felt as if that day might have been rather nice, given the circumstances. There hadn’t been snowfall quite yet, despite the chilly season and the location, but Alfred was not complaining. His mood was dreary enough without the snow.

(That evening on the other side of the world was just as serene. A good evening to spend inside, warming up under the kotatsu with a cup of tea. Not overseeing preparations for a military attack.

Kiku is joined by the other operators as they wait for news through their radios, facing the several screens laid out before them. It was only a matter of time before those planes reached that harbor.)

His office was near silent, minus the light scrawling of his pen against paper. It was comfortable. It was safe. He remembers feeling the slightest hopeful for a few moments as he signed off on a document detailing ammunitions to England. He was still a bit frustrated with Arthur meddling in his personal affairs, but he would come to regret his anger towards the older nation in a few days time when he was dealing with open wounds that _would_ _not_ _stop_ _throbbing._

(Kiku’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. He checked his watch -  it was nearly time.)

It didn’t come with a flash of white or with the deafening sounds of plane engines.

(The first planes made their attack. He wasn’t there, but he could hear the turrets and feel the bullets.)

It came in the form of searing burns suddenly eating away at his arms and shoulders, killing the pain receptors there.

(Kiku could hear the screams.)

Alfred couldn’t rip his dress shirt fast enough, unable to breathe properly. There was smoke in his lungs, clouding his throat and air ways enough to choke him. Tears beaded at the corners of his eyes as he tried coughing the smoke out, desperate to gulp down air that wasn’t contaminated. His upper body was on fire and he while there wasn’t any actual flames, it all felt very _real._ It was too hot and it hurt _so_ _much;_ he was sure his screaming would not go ignored throughout the capitol.

 _Something’s wrong,_ he managed to think through the pain, _something’s_ very _wrong._

( _Something’s wrong with me,_ Kiku thought as he took a slow sip of water. _Something’s_ very _wrong.)_

One of the secretaries stood at the doorway of his office, panting. Alfred remembers looking and _feeling_ like hell— clawing the fabric off of his body, glasses thrown off, scorch marks running along his upper torso in the middle of his office floor— but given the circumstances, he figured he had an excuse. The secretary was saying something, but it didn’t reach Alfred’s ears. The pain was overwhelming. It was too hot, too hot, _too fucking hot—_

(Ships began to go down. Submarines commenced their attack from beneath the waves.)

Then he was being picked up by two people who he didn’t care to recognize, pulling him by the arms away from his office and down towards the infirmary. The burning had begun to settle down by the time they arrived and settled him onto a cot, his lungs beginning to clear up. He drew in large breaths, steadying the hammering in his chest.

(Kiku’s heart was beating fast and hard against his chest, his eyes flickering from the several screens in front of him. His ears picked up the information given through the radios from his men, absorbing the information as if to immerse himself in the attack.

“Something’s going on— there’s an attack somewhere,” The blonde said through clenched teeth. The three who had dragged him into the infirmary shared wide—eyed glances. “Get-Get Theodore—”

(A part of him actually wished he was there.)

Fire scorched his arms and shoulders once more, turning the end of his sentence into a scream. However, unlike the first time, the pain was not as intense. The nerves had already been damaged and completely killed, leaving only a dull throbbing in its place. Alfred gripped the cot’s edges tightly through the second wave, praying to anything and anyone that this would be the last time.

Minutes passed. Nothing came.

(They had completely ruined Pearl Harbor. Kiku had let it happen.)

His president entered the room just as they began bandaging his injuries. The burns ranged between second and third degree, his skin completely mangled and nearly melted away down to the bone.

(Ninety minutes proved to be enough time to lay waste to sink eighteen ships. Kiku shook off the adrenaline rush he had gotten just moments before as his men began their return home.)

Alfred wasted no time. “There was an attack. The pacific.”

(This was a step forward. He eliminated a threat in his way. Everything would be easier -)

“We’d just gotten the news. Are you alright?”

(- Nothing could stop him from taking the islands, and why stop there? There was no one in the pacific to stop him from taking over what was rightfully his -)

The blonde waved the question away. “Doesn’t matter. What happened? Who attacked? Was it Germany? I doubt Italy would have the confidence to come near us—”

(- There was no one left, and Kiku couldn’t help but smile at that fact, because not only did he win a fantastic feat against the westerners, he -)

“Alfred.”

(- He took down _America,_ of all countries. Of all of the imperialistic and arrogant countries to bring down, he managed to hurt America and _get_ _away_ with it, he hurt _Alfred_ -)

He shut his mouth. He’s heard that tone only a few times before with this president. He was angry.

(Kiku’s smile faded. What had he become?)

“It was Japan.”

( _Oh, my love. How I’ve let you down.)_

Perhaps it was the overwhelming amount of pain he had just endured, or the building stress from the war, or the fact that he could feel his heart practically shattering, but the next thing Alfred remembered was collapsing against the cot, losing consciousness.

(Across the ocean, Kiku jolts awake, startling his pet who lay at his side. His cheeks are caked with dry tears.)


	14. december 7th, 1941

_ December 7th, 1941 _

_ IMPERIAL RESCRIPT _ _   
_ _   
_ _ By the grace of Heaven, Emperor of Japan Emperor Shōwa, seated on the throne occupied by the same dynasty from time immemorial, enjoin upon ye, Our loyal and brave subjects: _ _   
_ _   
_ __ We hereby declare War on the United States of America and the British Empire. The men and officers of Our Army and Navy shall do their utmost in prosecuting the war. Our public servants of various departments shall perform faithfully and diligently their respective duties; the entire nation with a united will shall mobilize their total strength so that nothing will miscarry in the attainment of Our war aims.

_ To ensure the stability of East Asia and to contribute to world peace is the far-sighted policy which was formulated by Our Great Illustrious Imperial Grandsire and Our Great Imperial Sire succeeding Him, and which We lay constantly to heart. To cultivate friendship among nations and to enjoy prosperity in common with all nations, has always been the guiding principle of Our Empire's foreign policy. It has been truly unavoidable and far from Our wishes that Our Empire has been brought to cross swords with America and Britain... _

_...The hallowed spirits of Our Imperial Ancestors guarding Us from above, We rely upon the loyalty and courage of Our subjects in Our confident expectation that the task bequeathed by Our forefathers will be carried forward and that the sources of evil will be speedily eradicated and an enduring peace immutably established in East Asia, preserving thereby the glory of Our Empire. _

_ In witness whereof, we have hereunto set our hand and caused the Grand Seal of the Empire to be affixed at the Imperial Palace, Tokyo, this seventh day of the 12th month of the 15th year of Shōwa, corresponding to the 2,602nd year from the accession to the throne of Emperor Jimmu. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> taken from the official declaration of war from imperial japan to the united states in 1941.
> 
> there was actually quite a bit more, but i cut out some of it to keep from overwhelming ya'll lmao. the rest of it is just as interesting to read as this bit.


	15. december 11th, 1941

_ December 11th, 1941 _

_ CHARGE D'AFFAIRES: _ _   
_ _   
_ __ The Government of the United States having violated in the most flagrant manner and in ever increasing measure all rules of neutrality in favor of the adversaries of Germany and having continually been guilty of the most severe provocations toward Germany ever since the outbreak of the European war, provoked by the British declaration of war against Germany on September 3, 1939, has finally resorted to open military acts of aggression.

_...Furthermore, the naval forces of the United States, under order of their Government and contrary to international law have treated and seized German merchant vessels on the high seas as enemy ships. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ The German Government therefore establishes the following facts: _ _   
_ _   
_ __ Although Germany on his part has strictly adhered to the rules of international law in his relations with the United States during every period of the present war, the Government of the United States from initial violations of neutrality has finally proceeded to open acts of war against Germany. The Government of the United States has thereby virtually created a state of war.

  
_ The German Government, consequently, discontinues diplomatic relations with the United States of America and declares that under these circumstances brought about by President Roosevelt Germany too, as from today, considers himself as being in a state of war with the United States of America. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Accept, Mr. Charge d'Affaires, the expression of my high consideration. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ December 11, 1941. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ RIBBENTROP. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after japan declares war on america, germany - as a sign of love - declares war on america as well a few days afterwards. 
> 
> this declaration was received by the highest ranking american diplomat (leland b. morris) in germany from the foreign minister (joachim von ribbentrop). i cut out a bit from the original, as well.


	16. february 20th, 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 chapter updates in one night!!!!  
> granted, the other two were declarations of war, but still :3c

_ February 20th, 1942 _

Kiku Honda was going to shoot someone.

(This wasn’t true. He did not have a gun on his person.)

Kiku Honda was going to stab someone.

(This could be true. He began carrying a katana with him along with his military uniform as of late.) 

His footsteps were harsh against the floors of the military building, having just left a meeting with his officers. Heels clicked against the tiles, and as he made his way towards his office, his fists were becoming tighter and tighter. 

He had half the mind to telephone the sorry excuse for a country and demand why he was gathering up Japanese citizens only to lock them into these co-called “camps”. Kiku had an idea of what these “camps” were like - and God above, if they were anything like Ludwig’s -

The man’s blood boiled just thinking about it. Alfred had no right. He had no goddamn right, and no matter how much that boy believed he was the center of the universe, that did  _ not  _ give him the right to lock up innocents. 

(A voice in the back of his head asked, “what gave you the right to  _ kill _ those innocents?”, but he pushed the question away.)

They were not on speaking terms at the moment, and hadn’t been since his attack, but Kiku might just break their silence just to yell at him. Maybe he should visit. Maybe he should drop by and...

No. That would be foolish. He didn’t have time to be foolish. There was a war in the the pacific that required his full attention now. 

He didn’t want to waste his breath and anger on someone so childish. A letter would suffice. 

The man did not expect a response, anyway. He knows the attack - along with everything else - must have upset Alfred enough to consider him anything but his enemy. He wouldn’t be surprised if the blonde didn’t wear the golden band around his finger anymore.

Kiku hasn’t worn it in two years. It almost felt too tight, too constricting. It kept him from going after what he wanted, and what he wanted was far more important than some vow shared between two foolish people from a different time. Now that he thought about it, their entire  _ relationship  _ was too constricting. 

It was stupid. It was a waste of time. 

(“It wasn’t,” that same voice said, “It was one of the best things that’s happened to you. Alfred changed you for the better.”)

Looking at a map of the pacific, littered with circles and lines connecting one island to the other, he wondered if he changed for the worse instead. 


	17. february 27th, 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a surprise letter from a surprise country!!!!!!!

_February 27th, 1942_

_Mr. Honda,_

_Have you any idea of what you’ve done?_

_Forgive me for speaking out of bounds, as I know we have grown apart in these past few years, but when you attack my own_ brother, _I will not stay silent._

_I’m well aware of the quest you’re on to own all of Asia - you’ve even adopted the name “Imperial Japan” to go with it - and, to be quite honest with you, Kiku, you’re going to fail. Yes, oceans rise and with them empires, but empires eventually fall with those same waves. I have seen this with Arthur, and I have seen this with Francis. You, surely, have seen it with Yao. I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree._

_In case you have forgotten your own history, I will gladly refresh your memory: you’ve gone from isolating yourself away from the entire world for over 200 years, during which you have only accepted the “good” ideals from the west and continued believing that your country was the center of the universe (which, and this did not take long to notice, reminded me of_ many _other imperialist countries that I have been in contact with over the years), to laying waste to the countries around you, including your own family. Yao is still recovering from what you have done to him, and I can only imagine what you’ve been doing to Yong Soo. The people you have once called allies are now your enemies, and does it not hurt you to see them struggling? Does it not hurt you to see Alfred this way?_

_Then again, you wouldn’t know what Alfred is like at the moment. Nor did I think you would care  at this point._

_Arthur is staying with him for the time being, and I will soon be joining them. From what he has told me, he does not eat. He does not talk. He does not sleep, and when he does, he is haunted by you and your attack._

_Reading this must put a smile on your face. To think you’ve brought down one of the most powerful countries of our time. You, a small, quiet little island who was always left in the past, forced to catch up with the rest of the world._

_Congratulations. You’ve ruined the one thing that my brother has treasured the most in his life. You’ve reinvented the island of Japan, you’ve showed that you are not scared to hurt those closest to you or kill and rape innocents, you’ve proven yourself a mighty country worthy of respect._

_You may not know this, Kiku, but you’ve always had our respect. You’ve always had_ my _respect, and Alfred’s. You had much more than Alfred’s respect, you were his entire_ world. _It feels like a thousand years ago when he first told me of you and I could see in his eyes that he was obviously taken with you. I have never seen his eyes so bright or his smile so warm. And when I met you, I was actually relieved that you were who my brother fell in love with._

_It would seem I was mistaken._

_I’m sure my declaration of war was a surprise, but I am going to fight to defend my brother, as well as my allies. I will not lose sight of what is most important to me._

_I suggest you remember the ring on your finger and choose which is more important to you._

_Matthew Williams_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw i know i've been MIA for the past few months but i'm gonna (hopefully) be updating a lot more often since i'm on break for the winter. i'm gonna try to catch up with season of the witch and the cardverse fic, as well!!! 
> 
> thanks for all the comments, also ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶ i love reading through them and seeing what ya'll have to say!!


	18. january 10th, 1944 - december 24th, 1944

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from 1944-1945, the allies conducted air raids on the island of japan. I thought it'd be neat to compile all of the events that happened over a year in one chapter.

_ January 10th, 1944 _

A blaring airhorn startles Kiku out of sleep around 4 am. Despite his body screaming for him to stay in his futon, he drags himself out and pulls on warmer clothes, trading the warmth of his home for a cold air-raid shelter. 

The crowds rushing to the shelters are almost as deadly as the bombs themselves, Kiku thought to himself as he picked himself up after being pushed to the ground. It was always pure chaos.

And, more often than not, it was always pure tragedy. 

There were too many people and not enough shelters for all of them, yet everyone scrambled at the sound of a horn to the nearest hole in the ground. Kiku was not one to necessarily run for the shelters - at that point, he had nothing to lose - as he took it upon himself to make sure his people were sheltered before he was. If he was lucky, he was able to find a bit of space in one of the shelters overflowing with women and children, but more often than not, he found himself in less than uncomfortable positions.

Take that early morning for example.

Too many children, not enough parents to keep their eyes on them. Kiku’s eyes managed to find a brother and sister wandering lost when the bombs started to fall, yanking them by their arms into a nearby ditch and covering them with his own body. 

Shrapnel was an absolute pain to deal with, especially when it was so deep in his neck.

 

* * *

 

_ January 21st, 1944 _

A woman was caught under fallen debris, her legs completely crushed by the infrastructure of her own home. Kiku managed climb under to lift the debris off of her, but as she was dragged away for medical attention, his knees gave out. 

He woke up a few hours later, a terrible ache throughout his broken bones as they slowly fixed themselves back into place.

 

* * *

 

 

_ February 2nd, 1944 _

Kiku didn’t find a shelter in time, but he manages to avoid any danger. As he begins walking back home, a delay-action bomb happened to be hidden under fallen debris. 

He grew accustomed to only hearing out of his right ear for the next few weeks.

 

* * *

 

_ March 16th, 1944 _

Kiku overheard a conversation on his way out of the shelter.

“She had her sister with her, right?”

“Yes, but she lost her mother in the crowd. She thought she found a different shelter, but when she went home, she found a body under the rubble. Her mother didn’t get out in time.”

 

* * *

 

_ April 3rd, 1944 _

It had been three months since Kiku had a good night’s sleep, but when he really thought about it, it had been longer than that.

(Around ten years or so.)

The rain made the search and scramble for shelters much more difficult. Kiku held an umbrella over the entrance to a hole dug at the base of a mountain, ushering people in as fast and as orderly as he could. The bombs started to fall just as he helping an elderly couple into the shelter, and before he could squeeze in, the backs of his legs were gone in a flash of white. 

Wearing pants for military meetings were rather painful.

 

* * *

 

_ May 29th, 1944 _

A little girl was pushed and eventually left behind in a crowd, and as the engines of the planes overhead grew louder, Kiku made his legs run faster towards her. He picked her up easily - she was a bit  _ too  _ thin from the lack of food rations - and dove into a nearby ditch. 

It was uncovered, but the bomb that landed next to them didn’t go off right away. Kiku quickly picked her up and practically threw her a few feet away from the ditch, and before he could even climb out himself, everything was white.

When he woke up, he only remembered being on fire and being nothing at the same time.

 

* * *

 

_ June 18th, 1944 _

The summer heat was beginning to grow unforgiving since most of the heat came from the firebombing. 

Water was scarce, just as everything else was. Kiku gave his own rations away to others as he saw fit, preferring that the elderly couple a few blocks away enjoyed his share of sardines. 

As the sun grew higher in the sky and the line for rations began to form, the raid airhorn sounded off. Rations were immediately forgotten, everyone rushing back home to grab their family and possessions before running for the shelters.  

Kiku was lucky, having found room in a shelter just before bombs began to fall. He covered his ears as the ground shook, eyes screwed shut so tightly that he could see patterns behind his eyelids. Not a sound escaped anyone’s mouths during the raid, and for a moment, it was the most silence he’s ever heard from his people. 

When it was over, people rushed back out to help stop the fires. A majority went back to the ration house. 

Kiku could feel the misery of his people all at once when they saw the building nearly burnt to the ground.

 

* * *

 

_ July 30th, 1944 _

 

He almost didn’t leave his futon when the airhorn began to blare at 2 am. 

Then he remembered the bodies of people who hadn’t made it to the shelters, black and charred, and left his home in near record time.

 

* * *

 

_ August 10th, 1944 _

Kiku dragged a woman away from a small corpse on the ground, a crowd beginning to gather around them.

“My daughter!” She kept screaming, “That’s my daughter!”

She clung onto his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. He didn’t know what to say.

 

* * *

 

_ September 4th, 1944 _

He didn’t lose any limbs, but he watched in silence as a mother and child wailed over their home - completely burned to the ground. 

There was a certain type of guilt that drowned him as he dreamt of the ocean that night.

 

* * *

 

_ October 19th, 1944 _

Winter was well on its way again, and it was not going to be kind. The fires caused by the firebombing were almost welcome. 

Almost.

The amount of fires Kiku helped put out in this last month alone was too many to count with both hands - one of which he didn’t have at the moment due to one of said fires - and the raids were showing no signs of stopping.

He hoped the snowfall would keep the flames from eating  _ everything  _ on the island.

 

* * *

 

_ November 7th, 1944 _

Kiku caught a glimpse of one of the planes flying overhead, and felt his stomach twist when he saw the familiar red, white and blue stripes and stars. 

He really pushed Alfred to the point of killing innocent civilians, hadn’t he?

 

* * *

 

_ December 24th, 1944 _

The evening was unusually quiet. 

Kiku dreamt of a bright light, intense heat, and losing his eyes and hair. 

He stayed awake until morning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i hc that japan was pretty selfless and reckless during these raids/towards the end of the war. this boi was out losing limbs and risking his whole damn body just to save these people from the bombings, and he did so bc he knew he'd just come back anyways so it was pretty damn worth saving a few kids.  
> also this chapter was inspired by bits and pieces of the movie "in this corner of the world", which i HIGHLY recommend!!


	19. may 14th, 1945

_ May 14th, 1945 _

_ Kiku, _

_ I’m sure you’ve heard of the capture of the Reichstag. Ludwig’s surrendered completely.  _

_ You both have been ignoring my letters and telephone calls for the past two years, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. If you actually somehow read this letter, at least hear me out?  _

_ I don’t think you want to hear my explanation for surrendering, and I don’t think you’d agree with my reasons, anyway. I’m sure you’d start going off about my “honor” - or lack thereof - and how I let down my people and my country, and how I should be ashamed, or that I should have accepted death over surrendering, or something along those lines.  _

_ (I’m right, aren’t I?) _

_ I’m not going to argue with you; I  _ should _ have done and felt all of that. Well, I  _ did _ feel guilty. I still do. But I don’t feel guilty for leaving you two and the insane quest to conquer the whole world, to have it balance on our “axis”.  Just saying it sounds so stupid. Stupid! We were naïve and power-hungry and I can still see that in you, you’re fighting until your very last breath, but where will that get you? With the way things are going for you, you could actually  _ die,  _ Kiku, you and your entire country is starving and constantly under attack. I can’t help but worry every time I hear of another defeat in the pacific, which are happening more and more often.  _

_ I could go on, but I don’t mean to lecture you. Now that I think about it, I’m sounding a lot like Ludwig. I suppose that’s a good thing. _

_ If you read through all of that reprimanding and are  _ still  _ reading this, Kiku, just know that I care about you so,  _ so _ much, even if you don’t want me to. Why else would I spend two years writing you and Ludwig letters and calling you? Not to mention enduring stupid, annoying training for three years, and visiting you both whenever you needed company, and a million other things! _

_ Kiku, I’m saying this because I love you - please stop this. Your arrogance has blinded you for far too long.  _

_ Please, please stay at least somewhat safe. You’re always in my prayers.  _

_ Much love, _

_ Feliciano Vargas  _

_ (P.S: I’ll treat you to lunch anywhere you want if you stay safe. Really, anywhere.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feliciano @ kiku: i love u but stop lol


	20. july14th, 1945

_ July 14th, 1945 _

A letter from Ludwig, a letter from Yao, and a letter from Feliciano.

All telling him to swallow his pride and back down. To surrender. To give up. 

They didn’t understand - and how could they? They are not  _ him _ , they do not go through what he goes through, they have not thrown their lives away for unsupervised children and forgotten elderly for an entire year as fire rained from the sky. They have not had to snap their necks back into place, or adapt to a missing ear, or watch as the backs of their legs melted from the bone. 

They could never understand. Kiku repeated this to himself like a mantra, along with the countless other mantras he often found himself repeating these past few years. And every time he was met with his own doubt.

“It’s for the best.” (But was it really?)

“The ends will justify the means.” (There was no way in telling that.)

“They could never understand.” (They probably do, more than you could ever know.) 

It was a constant back and forth. Kiku didn’t sleep, kept up by these points of views arguing with each other, fighting for complete control. He didn’t eat, his body could hardly keep up with how often he kept throwing it into danger, and combined with the overall state of his country, Kiku’s health was declining at an alarming rate. 

No one really noticed when he wore his uniform, and the others in his neighborhood just assumed he worked as a military advisor. Everyone assumed he was fine. Just another soldier.

Kiku kept all three letters in his bottom drawer, along with the unfinished letter he had begun to write to Alfred before all of this began. 

His hand itched to finish it. To apologize. To degrade him. To ask for his forgiveness. To taunt him into attacking. To write his name one more time. To cross it out afterwards.

Instead, he shut the drawer, pulled his military cap from his head, and buried his head in his arms. Both sides of him were miraculously silent. 

Surprisingly, he slept the entire afternoon.


	21. august 6th, 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been reading some isabel allende recently and felt inspired.

_ August 6th, 1945 _

When Kiku thinks back to what he had done to deserve not one, but  _ two _ bombs dropped on him, he could list everything out for a good hour and a half. Beginning with his bloody betrayal of his former mentor and the closest thing he could call family all the way until yesterday afternoon, when he sat in on a meeting with the war council. 

Hell, even being alive in this very moment was fucked up. How dare he survive an entire  _ bomb -  _ or  _ something  _ along those lines, because it was much more powerful than the normal fire bombs he had grown accustomed to _ \-  _ when the rest of the inhabitants of Hiroshima were probably burnt to a crisp?

(That metaphor makes him think of food, and he berates himself of even thinking of something that was so scarce in the wrong time at the wrong place). 

And yet, Kiku Honda lay under some rubble from a nearby building, one that couldn’t bear the event of a bomb being dropped on it. Which was typical; he was used to having random body parts either blown or sliced off, so being trapped under some debris was no different. At least, he couldn’t  _ feel  _ anything different. There wasn’t much of a chance to feel anything when there was an entire piece of a wall on top of you. 

Thus, for the time being, he lay there, motionless, and mused. 

About everything. About growing up with his chubby hand in Yao’s, about learning his language and daring to change it into something he preferred and found easier, about driving that sword into his back and watching the blood spatter onto the ground and hearing him scream  _ why,  _ about learning to live and survive alone against a world that moved too fast, about slowly becoming the obedient and reserved man his emperors had come to know him as, about having his sacred borders forced open by the obnoxious desire of the west, about meeting and hating Alfred before slowly falling in love with every part of him, about the letters he kept in a box in his attic, about the ring he used to adore and wear hidden under his gloves and long-sleeved  _ kimono _ , about his descent into power and his hunger for more, more,  _ more  _ of it, about choosing power and control over understanding and homely comfort, about killing himself just to live up to everyone’s expectations, and about the last time he had a decent meal with good company. 

_ I should not be alive,  _ he concluded after some time,  _ I owe the world that much.  _

Kiku knew he could kick this rubble off of himself if he truly wanted to - despite the strange and unfamiliar feeling of not exactly  _ feeling  _ the rest of his limbs and was there something wrong with his right eye? - but ultimately decided against it. 

Staying under that debris seemed like the best and most peaceful option, so he did. 

For several days. 

To be fair, he didn’t know actual  _ days  _ had passed. He figured a day or two might have gone by, but not four whole days. 

It was on that fifth day of dreaming he was asleep on his  _ engawa  _ with a small, fluffy canine next to him that the wreckage was suddenly pulled off of him, revealing what that “definitely-stronger-than-a-firebomb” had done to him. 

His question of who could move an entire piece of a building off of him came after he tried to get his arms and legs in motion. After having something as heavy as a building thrown on top of you, it took some time getting your bones to move again, but for some reason, that same sensation of nothing where his limbs were supposed to be was still there, no matter how hard he wriggled or squirmed - 

And then Kiku Honda had the terrifying thought that maybe this bomb was not just “stronger-than-a-firebomb”; if it had rendered his entire body useless and immobile, what the hell did it do to the rest of the city? His train of thought was on a fast course to worst case scenarios, and a dry, broken sob tore from his throat at the thought of others suffering the same if not more horrifying fates. 

Kiku, in his sudden fit of fear, barely noticed the person hovering above him, hesitation evident in the way their hands trembled and floated just above his body as if to lift him up. Despite not having vision in his right eye, he could see the hazy outline of the sunny head of hair and hear the faint  _ clink  _ of the dog tags around the person’s neck as they bent down over his broken body. 

That, combined with the fear in the back of his head of the mighty United States of America coming to get His revenge gave Kiku an idea of who was responsible for that flash of white that had blown over his city of Hiroshima. 

He did the only thing he could do at that moment: throw empty insults. 

“You  _ monster,”  _ Kiku was surprised he even had the strength to gather his voice, albeit weak and wobbly and in his native language, “You fucking  _ monster.” _

He knew Alfred could understand what he was saying by the way he tightened his jaw and avoided Kiku’s eyes. The broken man was picked up with ease, and as he was gathered into the Great and Powerful American’s arms, he caught a glimpse of the world around them: 

What was once a bustling hub of industry was now empty and near silent. It was something Kiku Honda hoped he would never have to witness in his lifetime - the fall of one of his own cities at the hands of the arrogant west. 

“You killed them all,” he murmured, “you actually killed them  _ all.” _

Alfred found his voice, matching his language. “Stop it, Kiku.”

“Why didn’t you just kill _me?”_ _You could have driven a knife into my heart, aimed a gun at my head, tore my heart out from my chest and that would have been better than all of this._ “How could you go after them? How could you?”

“I had to end this war.” 

Kiku, again, was left to worship the Strong, All-Knowing God of the West. Only He had the power to end this war, because he was the Hero after all. Kiku knew this, he knew he would say those exact words and believe them. He knew Alfred too well.

“Of course. You  _ have  _ to be the hero.” Kiku wanted to scream bloody murder at the sight of the small, ripped sandal a few feet away from them. “What a  _ great  _ and  _ honorable _ hero you turned out to be.” 

Another command from his Savior. “Stop talking, Kiku.”

But Kiku, the ever defying disciple, continued on with as much malice as he could muster with his charred skin and broken spirit. “I should have fought off those black ships. I should have kept my borders closed.”  _ I should have killed myself when I had the chance.  _ “I should have - I shouldn’t have met you. You’re a disaster waiting to destroy everything you touch.” 

Alfred did not speak, much to Kiku’s disappointment, and after a few more moments of attempting to glare at the colonizer, he let himself fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.


	22. august 17th, 1945

_ August 17th, 1945 _

As Kiku swam through an ocean of unconsciousness, he found the time to dream.

He pictured himself waking up on the  _ engawa, _ the low buzz from the summer cicadas rousing him from his comfortable sleep. His  _ yukata  _ would have been wrinkled and slightly opened from his tossing and turning, but he’d find there was a warm, familiar leather jacket on top of his frame acting as a blanket. There would be movement from somewhere next to him as he woke slowly, a hand gently  stroking his hair. 

Kiku would hear his voice before seeing him, followed by the rustle of a page turning. “I didn’t want to wake you up. You looked really comfortable.” 

Finally sitting up, Kiku would yawn, keeping the leather jacket wrapped around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I  hadn’t realized I was nodding off.” 

“That’s okay, I found a neat book from one of your shelves to keep myself busy with. You looked like you needed a nap, anyways.” 

Upon seeing him cross-legged, Kiku would lie back down on his lap, and the hand would stay in his hair. “Read a bit for me.” 

The other man would chuckle, a soft and warm sound. “My Japanese is rusty, but I’ll try my best for you.”

He turned another page. 

_ “Life is full of uncertainties; perhaps one day some unforeseen circumstance would bring her into his life once more...” _

Before another sentence could be read aloud, Kiku surfaced out of unconsciousness and opened his eyes. 

A dull hospital room replaced the dewey dream he was in just moments before. A slight draft from the window brushed past his now empty shoulders, the weight of the leather jacket long gone. Instead of a  _ yukata,  _ Kiku found that he was draped in a hospital gown, and a glance under his thin blanket showed that he was practically covered in bandages from head to toe. There was another bandage with gauze covering one of his eyes.

Just as he was reaching up to investigate the emptiness of his scalp, the door to his room opened softly, slowly - and suddenly, the jacket from Kiku’s dreams was in his room. 

Kiku’s first instinct was to throw the sheets aside, injuries be damned, and throw his fist at Alfred’s jaw with all the force he could muster. His second instinct was to wrap his hands around the man’s neck. His third involved the flower vase next to his bed and a million shattered pieces of vase. 

However, despite how tempting all of those options seemed, Kiku only remained in bed, sitting with his hands in his lap and head tucked down. 

“Hey,” Alfred began, treading carefully. When he received no reply, he continued, “You’ve been out for a few weeks. The doctors were starting to get worried, especially after the second...” 

His voice trails off briefly, and Kiku nearly sees red. 

“Well, how do you feel?”

It’s when Alfred asked this that Kiku drops his cool demeanor. Glaring daggers at the blonde, he replied, “How would you suppose you would feel after being bombed?  _ Twice?”  _

Alfred flinched. Kiku blinks before turning towards the window, taking a breath to level his anger. “Where am I?” 

“Washington D.C.”

To be rescued by the enemy - Kiku would not have it. “I respectfully request to be taken back to Japan. As soon as possible.”

“Kiku, don’t. You won’t survive without the medical care you’re getting here.” 

“Perhaps,” Alfred narrowed his eyes at the man’s tone, because he knew for a fact that Kiku believed his own arrogant words, “it is acceptable for  _ you _ to abandon your people, but I will not allow myself to be pampered while my people suffer.”

Taking a step towards the hospital bed, he had to stop himself from using a less than patient tone. “Without you, they’ll die. The  _ nation _ will die.

At that, Kiku had to laugh, though it came out a hollow shell of his former laughter. ”That is what you people want, anyway,” He said, “I would be doing you a favor. I would be better off dead since I can no longer win this war.” 

There was a brief emotion on the blonde’s face before a knock sounded on the door. Kiku did not mind seeing Alfred go. It was bound to happen some time. 

What Kiku needed to focus on was recovering from what those bombs did to him so he could help plot the rest of the war and give his people a last fighting chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the book alfred was reading was the Tale of Genji.


	23. august 19th, 1945

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for self harm and blood.

_ August 19th, 1945  _

Kiku, though exceptionally weaker, somehow found the strength to grip the paper in his hands near vice-like. His good eye read over the top of the page over and over and over again - 

**_PEACE AT LAST! HIROHITO TELLS “ALL” TO PEOPLE_ **

\- before skimming through the paragraphs that follow. A transcript of his emperor’s supposed announcement of their surrender is printed towards the end of the article, and Kiku nearly chokes on the bile that threatens to rise out of his throat. 

“We have ordered Our Government to communicate to the Governments of the United States, Great Britain, China and the Soviet Union that Our Empire accepts the provisions of their Joint Declaration.”

They - his council, his emperor - accepted the terms of surrender that they so stubbornly refused to acknowledge just a month before? They abandoned Kiku and the principles they had drilled into his mind to instead play into the enemy’s terms? 

“Moreover, the enemy has begun to employ a new and most cruel bomb, the power of which to do damage is, indeed, incalculable, taking the toll of many innocent lives. Should we continue to fight, not only would it result in an ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation, but also it would lead to the total extinction of human civilization.”

Kiku wanted to scream. Hot, angry tears began to blur the words of the newspaper in front of him as he re-read the small paragraph again, eyes stuck on the phrase “ultimate collapse and obliteration of the Japanese nation”. Had he not said that to himself and to his emperor before the damn bomb was even introduced?

Japan was killing itself before America had even toyed with the word “atomic”, and Kiku could only watch. 

“The hardships and sufferings to which Our nation is to be subjected hereafter will be certainly great. We are keenly aware of the inmost feelings of all of you, Our subjects. However, it is according to the dictates of time and fate that We have resolved to pave the way for a grand peace for all the generations to come by enduring the unendurable and suffering what is insufferable.”

It ended there. 

Japan - Kiku Honda - had endured the unendurable and suffered the insufferable. 

And yet, after everything, they lost. 

After  _ everything.  _

Kiku suddenly can’t find the arrogance or egotism he’d been so desperately trying to cling onto these past years. Echoes of “it’s what’s best” are silent, any reasons for mindless killing are gone, and the only thing in his mind that’s driving him into sobs is that this was all for  _ nothing.  _  What had they gained in this war besides devastating losses and new ways to kill? 

He touched a hand to his thinned hair, his injured eye, the scars under his bandages, knowing that out of everyone, the United States had gained the most out of this war. 

And the Axis were just a way to help him get what he wanted. 

Setting the newspaper down, he caught the date of this declaration. 

Four days ago. Two days before he had woken up. 

Alfred hadn’t mentioned a word. 

 

* * *

 

Kiku’s face was caked with dried tears as he lay in his hospital bed, staring out of his window to the city of Washington D.C. The sky had begun to melt into warm oranges and pinks, soon to give way to evening. 

He would not sleep.  _ Could  _ not sleep. His apparent surrender was ringing in his head, and he had already ripped the newspaper into clean shreds to try to silence the words, but it was a futile effort. No one had come to check on his condition, either, so he was left to sit alone with his thoughts for the entire afternoon. 

Something he had thought when Alfred first found him underneath the rubble of Hiroshima also came back to consume his thoughts:  _ I should have killed myself when I had the chance.  _

_ When I had the chance. When was that?  _ Kiku mused, thinking back before the war. Before becoming entangled with the west, before trying to catch up to the rest of the world. Just after  _ Sakoku,  _ and just before those black ships arrived on his shores. 

Before he knew the frightening power of the United States. Before he saw the fascination and infatuation in Alfred’s eyes. Before Kiku saw it in  _ his _ own eyes. 

_ There,  _ he thought,  _ that’s when I should have done it.  _

What ate at him the most, however, was that he still felt the nagging sense of pride in his heart, of dying with honor instead of surrendering oneself to the enemy. It scared him - the desire and outright _need_ to join in with the military officers that he knew had already done away with themselves. The policy - the _custom -_ that had been the norm for so many years. Rather than subjecting himself to Alfred’s “hospitality”, Kiku should be six feet under with the rest of Imperial Japan. 

Yes. He should. 

There’s a glass flower vase on the table next to him. 

He  _ could -  _

The vase is in his trembling hands, cold and shiny and he can see his own reflection staring back up at him, but it  _ wasn’t _ him. The person staring back at him was missing an eye, missing his hair, colored a sickly pale, desperation in his eyes. This wasn’t him, but it  _ was  _ Japan. It was was the image of the entire nation at that moment: exhausted, defeated, and desperate for a way out. 

A way out which was currently in his shaking hands.

Kiku yanked the flowers out before bringing the vase down onto the table, the sound certainly being loud enough to hear through the walls and door. Quivering hands reached for a large shard of glass - his hand closed too tightly around the sharpened edges, but he hardly noticed the brief pain - and the man held it just above his bare wrist, hovering. 

He knew the noise was loud. There was sure to be someone on their way to his room. 

_ This is right. This is the only way,  _ Kiku thought, repeating it like a mantra.  _ It’s what’s best.  _

The first cut didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would - so he kept going, slicing deeper and deeper with the glass shard. His breathing was ragged, coming out in short bursts as the air in the room suddenly felt less. There were tears - his? - suddenly on his face and in his eye, blurring his vision so he saw nothing but red and white, sickly skin opening into red. A noise, a sob, escaped his lips as he scrubbed at his good eye, smearing warmth onto his cheek. 

This had to work. He had to die. He  _ needed _ to die. He knew he deserved it. He knew it was honorable.

So why was he crying? 

The pain wasn’t as bad as having a building dropped on top of you, or losing the backs of your legs. This pain was nothing. He had been through worse. He had endured the unendurable and suffered the insufferable. 

Somewhere through his shredding and tears, Kiku slowed to a complete stop. He held the shard tightly in his hand, his weak frame quaking with pathetic sobs. 

As he held the glass above his wrist, the door to his room burst open, the lights switching on. Kiku didn’t look up from his lap, nor did he even attempt to hide what he was doing just moments before. It wouldn’t have helped; the nurse quickly had the glass out of his hand and had called others into the room to help her. 

He couldn’t even do this and win. The thought only brought out more hot tears from his eye. 

They had him cleaned and stitched in the hours that followed. As they held his arm for stitching, he only looked out of the window. There were no stars. 

_ That was the only way,  _ he thought.  _ That was all I had left.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yardy kno the Fight Scene is coming next


End file.
